


Check, Please

by mikaylalwrites



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clumsiness, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, I don't know what else to tag this, M/M, Meet-Cute, Short & Sweet, Stood Up, Waiters & Waitresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:02:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikaylalwrites/pseuds/mikaylalwrites
Summary: George Washington gets stood up by a blind date.He thinks the night couldn't get any worse until a reckless waiter runs into him.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/George Washington
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	Check, Please

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3: Juicy 
> 
> clean meet-cute :D

George was not used to being stood up. Many dates did not go as hoped but at least they had the courtesy to show up. He took a long sip of his coffee, thankful that he only ordered himself a beverage and not the date that his ex-wife set him up with. His waitress regularly came by to ask if he wanted to order any food and he kept having to repeat that he was waiting for someone. Someone that after an hour clearly wasn’t coming. George made up his mind to leave once he finished his coffee and paid the check. Before he could, a waiter sped by him recklessly. 

The whole event went in slow motion. One moment, the waiter was racing upright with a few glasses on a tray, the next he was on the ground with George. George inspected his white dress shirt that was now covered in glass and orange juice. He wiped some of the glass away carefully with the side of his hand then turned to look at the waiter. He was prepared to say something very stern but faltered when he looked into the waiter’s helpless eyes. The waiter moved hurriedly to grab a towel and attempted to dab the orange juice out of George’s shirt but to no avail. 

“I’m so sorry, It’s my first day,” the waiter said quickly. “And I am definitely fired. Oh my God.” The waiter swore under his breath and moved a dark hair that had fallen from his less-than-tidy bun. “I got this job to pay for my apartment until I got a clerking job. So far, only people I don’t want to clerk for have wanted to hire me” — he made a face that suggested he was passionately lost in his own thoughts— “If you don’t want to do anything useful why go into law anyway? If you want to sit on your ass and annoy people I hear telemarketing is a great job.” He continued to pointlessly dab at George’s shirt. “This isn’t working is it?” 

George glanced at his stained shirt. “Doesn’t look like it.” 

“Fuck,” the waiter whispered. He looked at the clock on the wall behind him. “Ha, my shift’s over. Come with me.” 

“Where are we going?” 

The waiter tilted his head in confusion, bringing more strands of hair into his face, “I owe you a new shirt, obviously.” 

“Look, son, I want to go home,” George told him. He waved a hand over his shirt, “My shirt is stained. My date is missing in action. I have been at this restaurant for over an hour. I appreciate the sentiment but all I want is a bath and a nap.” 

“What’s this ‘son’ thing? I’m not your son. I don’t know you.” 

“It’s a term of endearment. Now if you’ll excuse me-” 

“Wait!” the waiter interrupted. “At least take my jacket. And please, please, don’t complain. I need this job.” 

“I don't know your name so how can I possibly complain?” George said. “For all I know, there’s another waiter exactly like you.”  
The waiter pointed to the left side of his shirt. “It says my name on my nametag” —he very quickly realized he was feeling nothing but fabric— “Where the fuck is my nametag? Of all the things, I am the world’s worst waiter.” He laughed dryly. “Anyway, I’m Alexander Hamilton.” 

“You’re telling me your name but you don’t want me to complain?” George joked. Alexander’s mouth opened and closed. “It’s okay, son, I won’t complain. We all make mistakes.” 

“Alexander, my name is Alexander. I just told you that.” 

“You have some issues, Alexander,” George said. “Well, if you’re going to offer me your jacket, take me to it.” 

“Right.” 

Alexander disappeared into the back of the restaurant then reappeared with a thin forest green jacket. George took it and tried to put it on. It went over his body but refused to zip. 

“It’s a little small,” he said. “But thank you. Can you do me a favor?” Alexander nodded. “I was at table ten, one black coffee. Can you get me my check so I can pay?” 

“Yeah, hold on.” 

Alexander darted into the space by the kitchen and returned with his check. George handed him a five dollar bill and he rushed back to get the receipt.  
“If you considered walking, you might have avoided this whole incident,” George said when Alexander returned. 

“Running is so much more efficient. Besides, I basically run on coffee so I can’t help it sometimes.” 

“That explains so much,” George said. He took a pen out of the pocket of his dress pants. He wrote something on the back of the receipt and handed it to Alexander. “My phone number for when you want your jacket back.” 

Alexander nodded. As George left, he called in his best customer service voice, “Thank you for dining with us. Please come again.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this, please leave kudos/a comment. 
> 
> if you hated it, leave a comment. 
> 
> either way, feel free to check me out on [tumblr](https://violetsbaudelaire.tumblr.com) :D


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